


Frostbitten

by Ghostly_Galleon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arctic Winter AU, Cold War went bad, M/M, Nuclear Winter, not as angsty as you think, still pretty angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostly_Galleon/pseuds/Ghostly_Galleon
Summary: Alfred and Ivan have taken the cold war too far- Everyone immediately blames Ivan, of course Alfred is an idiot, but he’s also a hero… whether or not is was him who fired first. Now there have been months on months of nuclear winter. Matthew is alone, as always in Canada, far from anyone. He decides to embark on the travel to go to Europe, where there are more countries.Alfred is nowhere to be seen.Ivan is struggling to find a way to go back- to fix the damage- and he needs someone’s help. Trouble is brewing- no one is willing to lend a hand… except a Canadian that is a little too kind.
Relationships: Canada/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 72





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First fic I've ever written to show to the public!
> 
> The prologue isn't particularly stellar writing, but it's supposed to mostly give you the premise, and the basics of whats going on, and it is way shorter than the actual chapters will be, so please bear with me!! <3

The world felt empty. Matthew’s boots crunched through the snow as he walked through a deserted forest. Nobody knows who died, who lived, Matthew hopes it isn’t just him, he has faith in the other northerners at least, the Nordics, the Slavs. He knows they can survive a winter as harsh as this… he doesn’t know for how long. Matthew himself recalls nights where he wasn’t sure if he could make it, where the cold seeped so deeply into his clothes it burrowed into his flesh and chewed into his bones, yet, something in him persevered, and something told him there were others who may just persevere for the sake of living anyhow… like Alfred.

He hadn’t heard a whisper from his southern neighbor. It was typical really. The very man who caused this mess, the nation paranoid in his actions and ambitious in his pursuits, the one who wouldn’t shut up about how everything he did was for the good of the world, the one and only Alfred F. Jones made no noise now. 

He had always spoken of the communists with such disgust in his voice, such a dangerous glint in his eyes and yet here he was, painting the world in his own shade of red. Matthew had never agreed with the extremities Alfred always seemed to take, he refused to cut ties with Cuba like he asked, he refused to do so many things… yet he found himself complicit, he finds himself partially to blame. 

The cold war only gets colder as nuclear winter sets in.

And if Alfred hasn’t made it Matthew fears for the Italies, for Spain, his own brothers Australia and New Zealand. Matthew had always felt alone but never like this. Only at the best of times can he tear his mind away from thinking about the others. 

The world had been like this for months, desolate, soul sucking. The initial bombings hit Russia in several places, Moscow, St. Petersberg, Chelyabinsk, Vladivostok, and it was followed quickly by Russia’s own nukes. 

They had called it mutually assured destruction for a reason.

Even though only Russia and America were hit, the entire world was in the crossfire. It didn’t take long for the rest of the world to be sent into a great darkness. The frost set in first, plants died, then animals, creatures more suited to the arctic took over, tougher plants, like lichens, spread. It was amazing how well arctic creatures adapted, Matthew swore he saw polar bears in Ottawa by the first week, but, not everything made it, not even most humans.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one than what I'm planning for each chapter but longer than the prologue for sure!! It's a little all over the place but bear with me-

Flames flicker orange and red, light kissing frostbitten hands which were outstretched and seeking warmth. Snow fell gently from the sky, flakes collecting on the bulky parka that Matthew found on his back as leafless trees creaked in the wind. A full moon struggled to shine through the clouds as Matthew watches his breath become visible in front of him. Kuma was curled next to him in a deep slumber. That bear may as well be the only thing keeping him sane.

The noise Matthew makes rustling through his bag feels ten times louder in the silence of the winter night. A sigh graces the Canadian’s lips as his hands find themselves unfurling a map in his lap rather than sucking heat from the fire. His glasses slide down his nose as he makes some calculations in his head. He was crossing the Atlantic, in search of other nation representatives in the much more densely packed European countries. He had started travelling for almost as long as the winter had started, and he was growing nearer and nearer to the European continent every day, of course he wasn’t just travelling on foot either. He had a sturdy vehicle with him, and plenty of fuel, and on days where the vehicle was too cold to start, then Kuma found himself pulling his weight (literally) for once. 

He knew he was getting close, and though he couldn’t tell you how many days exactly, he knew that the number wasn’t very high, and with that thought he found some solace. _Not far to go..._ He crawled into his tent, wriggling between blankets, and curling up into a tight ball to preserve what heat he could. _Not far to go._

And as his eyes flicker shut, heart rate slowing to a comfortable pace, he knows Kuma is crawling in with him, exactly what he needed to stay warm. 

When he wakes the next morning, the sun doing little to light up the grey, cloudy skies, he can’t shake this odd feeling in the pits of his stomach. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but it is an unpleasant change from the feeling of hope, and solace from the prior night. 

Something isn’t right and he knows it. 

Mornings are slow for him. They always have been. Matthew was never a morning person, especially not when it was cold out. Every morning he was slow to get up, the skies were grey, there was very little sunlight to shock him awake. Every bone in his body begged him to sleep more every day. His limbs were heavy, his mind foggy, but he knew he had to keep going, every day he had to keep going.

...

Ice fishing was something he had been doing for almost as long as he could remember. He crouched over a small hole in the ice with nothing more than a spool of fishing line with a hook on the end in his hands as he waited for a bite. Kuma sat next to him staring at the line intently, drooling at the prospect of a nice fresh fish. 

The time that passes is forever lost in the void of Matthew’s mind, he could sit there forever, humming old Quebecois folk songs and thinking about nothing. These short minutes, compared to the centuries Matthew had been around for, were nothing, and frankly, if he didn’t make a single catch he would just have to deal. It wasn’t like he absolutely had to eat, he wasn’t a normal human, and Kuma wasn’t a normal polar bear... but Matthew found discomfort in being hungry, food was such a terribly addicting thing after all, and Kuma would be in a terrible mood without fish. So he waited, and waited, and as he waited he felt hair rise on the back of his neck.

There was that feeling again, that awful feeling. It was stronger this time, more distinct, he recognized it now, he was being watched. He swallowed dryly, gaze moving from the hole he had cut in the ice, instead examining the terrain around him, and before he could get a proper looks over his shoulder, there was a tug on his line, a bite, a catch. His attention snapped immediately to the task at hand, pulling the fish out of the water. He did this with a great tug and a small bit of effort. The fish was out of the water Kuma had leapt to catch it, biting it’s head off cleanly before Matthew could even properly identify what type of fish it was. 

He watches Kuma devour the sea creature and rubs his eyes tiredly, he notices that the feeling of being watched was gone. He shakes his head, he really was going crazy out here huh? 

His gear goes into his pack, and his pack goes into his vehicle. He glances up at the sky, sun just past the mid way mark. It would be dark soon, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was late, especially not in this kind of winter. 

….

The automobile starts with a roar of the engine, Kuma found himself in the passengers seat as Matthew drove. The windshield was the only thing separating the two from the frigid winds of the exterior. Snow was swept up in large drifts whilst the sky darkened from both a quick approaching sunset and also what seemed to be a storm swirling in the clouds. 

The snow had started falling gently, little specks of white falling lazily through the sky, yet that was really all it took to bring the visibility down. Matthew was sure the coast was clear, they were traversing an ocean after all, and there were no obstacles for them to face. Even as the sun set, and he couldn’t see anything, he drove. So long as they drove through the blizzard, the snow wouldn’t threaten to bury them, who needed sleep when it was a matter of survival? 

\--And as the night drags on and bags formed under Matthew’s violet eyes,he stifled a yawn as he drove blearily. Eyes darted towards the rear view mirror every so often, simply staring into the same dark snowy landscape that was ahead of him, there was very little variation, only a foot on the gas pedal. 

It was unfair for his eyes to begin deceiving him as the night wore on. Sure, he was tired, but he found it disturbing to look into the rear view mirrors and see a silhouette of a man. It made him terribly aware that he had to go faster, that he had to press harder onto the gas pedal. 

The Canadian no longer believed in such fables of the Wendigo, or of ghosts that haunted the night, yet the fear of the unknown was a plague not so easily destroyed, and the shadow of a man in the distance struck more fear into him than he’d like to admit, but it kept him motivated. He drives for a long time, He drives until the sun rises. His sleep schedule had really been a mess, this happened every few days, every time there was a night storm he felt more comfortable driving than sitting in the open, knowingly and willingly getting buried under snow. His final action would be to set up camp again.

He hops out of the vehicle, boots sinking into the fresh layer of snow. Matthew did have snowshoes in his vehicle, but he knew he wasn't doing much, he would just have to dig himself into the snow, pitch a tarp, and set his sleeping bag down. Luckily for him, Kuma was happy to help. The bear dug his claws into the snow, easily shoving it away as Matthew started to unload some of his gear.It was a slow process for the most part- tedious, and tiring, especially to someone as fatigued as Matt. 

Kuma settled themself down fairly quickly, settling in the small den they dug for themself. Matt, pausing as he worked, solely to stare blankly into the snow and catch his breath sighed, and rubbed his eyes. He should have stopped sooner- this was a mistake... but... oh there's always a but. He _had_ to get this done before he could rest, and he had to rest before he could move forward. Oh, how he wished this was all a dream. 

Hopelessness envelopes his mind, numbness nibbled at his fingers, stress dug its claws into his stomach. He pushed it all away, now pacing through the snow to simply keep active, wandering away from his work in progress camp and staring at the horizon. He pulled at his hair, slapped is own face softly. He needed to stay awake, giving up was not an option. He was a nation dammit, he had been alive for hundreds of years- and even if he was young for his crowd, he had lived through worse, he had had his capital writhe in the sickeningly hot tendrils of flames and continued his revenge. Matthew would live. As he walked, he gained momentum, he was psyching himself for such a simple task, he was psyching himself up for simply building shelter. There was no one there to watch him sink into this creeping insanity, he _was_ going crazy wasn't he?

Something snaps. No- rather it cracks.

He takes a step, another. A deep breath escapes his lips and he turns back to watch his work in progress base, and then... and then he gets that feeling again. That eerie feeling that send a shiver down his spine. Then he feels dizzy. He blinks hard. _Work- get to work-_ his brain chanted.

Crack.

He swallows, and he takes a step towards the vehicle.

Crack.

There's a pause, what was that noise?

Crack, crack, crack. 

The ice below him fractured, cracks spread like lightning. His gaze trails down, his mouth opens to scream. 

When he falls, he shuts his eyes tight. Cold wraps around him in thick tendrils. At first... it burns. His teeth grind together. It was now that he screamed. The sound fell silent under water, replaced only by large bubbles. He can taste salt on his lips as his body attempts fruitlessly to gasp for air. As he sinks, as he flails, something in him finally relaxes. He had read somewhere that after the brain accepted it was going to drown, it released chemicals to at least ease the process. Matt dared to open his eyes, the ocean was dark. Blues and greens swirled around him. A memory from long ago tugs at his mind.

...

The first time Matthew had fallen through ice he was just a child... Strong arms had pulled him out, dragged him home, nursed him back to health, provided him warmth. He remembers resurfacing, shivering, coughing up water and staring into the faces of the Nordics. At first he was embarrassed, but they told him it had happened to all of them... he remembers feeling safe there, with them.

In a time like this he misses them.

He thinks of Alfred too, he still doesn't know where his brother is, he wonders if his brother had expected for him to live, he wonders if his brother would be sad he was gone, or if he would only be disappointed. 

Arthur and Francis too-if they could even remember him that was. a frog develops in his throat. Surely the ocean wouldn't mind a little extra salt water right?

...

He feels himself sinking further, he gazes up, to where the ice was cracked above him. Black figures swirl around him now. He wonders if he would really die. He wonders if he has enough people left to sustain him, to curse him to drown forever. 

Something tugs at him. If he could sigh, he would. instead he allows his eyes to shut. He feels a current take him, he feels it tug him through the water. He lets everything turn to black around him.

...  
..  
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger ovo...  
> Hope you enjoyed!!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update owo""
> 
> Ivan finally makes an entrance!

He coughs. Water spills from his lips and his lungs burn as they take in air that was much too cold in the first place. He shivers as the cold from the snow he was slayed upon bites into his skin before suddenly he was surrounded by warmth. He dares not open his eyes for he fears that they would burn too. Matthew had never expected to wake up.  
.   
“Ah, so you’ve decided to wake up now?” 

Matthew furrows a brow, the voice… the accent…

“Ivan?” he croaks out, his throat aching with the attempt to speak, and his throat much scratchier than expected. He clears it almost self consciously. 

“Da.”

The weight on Matt shifts and lifts itself up on sturdy legs, “Who?” 

Well… at least Kuma was there. He relaxes slightly, reaching up to pat the bear, a small smile on his face as his hands find the creature’s head and scratch behind the ear. Kuma lets out a whine and drags his wet tongue over Matt’s face, forcing him to push the bear away and open his violet eyes. He wipes his face with a hand, getting slobber out of his eyes as his other hand feels around him for his glasses, and when he can’t find them he breaks the silence between him and Ivan. “Er… where are my glasses?” 

“Oh, yes, one moment.” Matthew watches the blurry silhouette that he knew was Ivan start to move. There was rustling as he looked through his bag, finally handing Matthew his red rimmed glasses. As he puts them on there are a few key things he notices. First, that the camp they were at was not the one that Matthew had set up, yet his things were still there. There was a large rifle laying on the ground next to Ivan, who himself looked extremely tired. A voice in Matthew’s head reminded him that the man in front of him was the reason for this winter, for this cold. He frowns and looks away. 

“Were you following me?” he manages to ask, attempting to run a hand through his hair, which was frozen and stiff. He reaches for his bag as he speaks, pulling it towards him and opening it. 

“Da, yes I was.” Ivan nods, “I… hm.” 

“What?” 

“I thought you were America at first.” 

Matthew scowls at that, “Yes, yes of course you did.” he digs out some fresh clothes, setting them next to him, “You probably wouldn’t have gone after me if you had known huh?” there’s a silence, and finally the Canadian lets out a huff, and pushes himself up to his feet. “Must be real disappointed.” 

“I was.”

“Oh yeah, yeah you can fuck right off with that.” he rolls his eyes, picking his clothes up, “Now look away, I gotta change into dry clothes.” 

Matthew has to admit, holding a conversation with Ivan was difficult. He didn’t _want_ to hold a conversation with him in the first place, and evidently Ivan felt the same way. At least when he was alone he didn’t have to hear about his brother, or be mistaken for him. 

The silence was almost deafening. There were only sounds of shuffling clothes as Matthew got changed. He pulled a shirt over his face despite the fact there were glasses there, ignoring the discomfort of the frames pushing against his face. When he finally put on enough layers to have himself covered he cleared his throat. “So were you just trekking across the Atlantic to look for Alfred or what?” 

“Actually, Matthew- it is Matthew, yes?” Ivan looks at him, tilting his head slightly. Matthew can tell the question was genuine, but still he despised it, only offering a nod in response before he pulled a sweater on over his head.

“Yes, well, you must have gotten lost.” He glances away, before looking back, meeting Matthew’s gaze, “You see, you’re actually in my land… I suppose you were aiming for Europe? Anyhow, you know how it is.. I could feel you entering. We’re still a few kilometers from land but-”

“I’m In Russia?”

“I already said so, yes.”

There’s a pause. Silence as Matthew furrows a brow to think. Ivan continues. “As I was saying-- I can take you to shore then, and perhaps you can help me with something?” 

“You want me to help you?”

“You owe me your life.”

Matthew lets out a ragged sigh as he picks up a jacket and pulls his arm through each bright red sleeve. He knows this is how you get brought into things you don't want to be brought into, and yet he goes along with it. If Alfred were there he would be more than a little upset. “What do you need help with?” 

“I… I can not tell you yet.” Ivan shifts as he finishes the words, eyes trailing down to his boots. 

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Would you have told Alfred?”

“No.”

Matthew hums in thought before zipping the jacket up. “Alright then.” he nods to himself, “Alright..." he purses his lips, letting out a breath through his nose as he thinks.

“You’ll help?” 

“Give me some time to decide.” 

There’s another pause before abruptly, Ivan stands up. He pats his coat down and looks at Matthew evenly. They both look into each other's eyes, a brief moment of searching, for what Matthew wasn’t sure. Ivan finally clears his throat, “Then decide on our way.” 

“On our way?”

“I’m going to see if the Nordics fools are alive. I need all the help I can get.”

“Ah.” 

Kuma steps between Matthew and Ivan, staring at the Russian with unvoiced hostility before looking at Matthew, and softening. “Hungry…” he whined, only to get a small “Sorry” in response from Matthew. Ivan arches a brow at the two before starting to pack his things. It was a wonder what he could fit into his backpack. 

“We’ll stop somewhere, and get you a bag and make up for the supplies you lost,” Ivan grunts, “But first we must walk. It will take time.” 

Matthew nods, picks up his things as well, wondering to himself whether or not this was a good idea. He sighs and picks himself up. Only time will tell at this rate, and he worries he wont have much time. He wonders if he'll ever see his brother again, and he wonders what Alfred would think if he was caught travelling with Ivan... trying to be friends with Cuba had been bad enough--

But that aside Matthew had to admit, he never bought into the whole war, the arms race, the constant spying. Matthew had the most uranium out put in the whole world, and not once did he make a nuke with it. It was stupid, it was pointless, and it caused the destruction of everything they knew. Did Alfred think it was worth it? Did Ivan? Was it worth it to kill everybody just to climb out of the rubble and say that they won? Nobody had won, and not only in the sense that the world had been wiped out but also in the sense that both of them were alive... probably.. Matthew was and so was Ivan apparently so Alfred had to be out there somewhere right? So what would he think, what would he think if he found Matthew hanging out with Ivan.

They walked for hours through the snow. The terrain barely changed, Ivan barely spoke. Kuma was unhappy and so was Matthew. Who was to say what Ivan felt? Probably angry, stewing in disappointment because Matthew was indeed not Alfred, and that was how everyone felt upon that realization, hell, Ivan even had the guts to openly admit it unlike Arthur, unlike everyone else. Matthew couldn't believe it, yet he did nothing to stop it. That was why he was so forgotten, because he was never like his brother, so petty that he would stoop low enough to throw a tantrum at any disrespect. He was better than that.

And as the walking slowed and they started to unpack, Matthew had this unsettling feeling of anxiety build up in his stomach. He didn't trust Ivan, he really didn't. Ivan saves him once and now he's expected to do something in return, now he's traveling with him, helping him set up camp. Ivan destroyed his world and now he's expected to sleep soundly in a tent next to his? 

No. That wasn't how this worked. That wasn't how _any_ of this worked. He looked down at Kuma, who looked just as upset as Matthew was. The bear was staring Ivan down, beady, black eyes boring into the large man's back. Ivan may be big but Kumajiro was bigger. Ivan bothered him in a way he couldn't quite put a finger on, he hadn't even done anything to him, he saved him and asked for help, that was all. There was nothing to justify his feelings and that made it worse. Be nice Matthew, be nice.

The sun etched it's way through the sky obscured by clouds. Finally it got darker, their paces slowed. Matthew's head swirled with thoughts, with worries about Ivan, he glared at the ground as he thought, failing to notice that Ivan had stopped walking in front of him. If Kuma had not clamped on the hem of his sleeve with his teeth, Matthew may have walked straight into the taller man. He flushed, slightly embarrassed as he stumbled back onto his bear, garnering a sideways glance for Ivan. There was a moment of tension, and then it was gone. 

"We're setting up camp here." Ivan rumbled. His bag slid off his back, kicking soft snow up as it hit the ground. Matthew followed suit, putting down his own bag. 

"Do you have food with you?" he asks, "or will we have to find some ourselves?" 

Ivan shrugs a shoulder, "Da, I have food, it's firewood we worry about.. but first we'll set up camp." he looks at Matthew, "Okay?" 

Matthew met his gaze, he sensed not a question, not a suggestion in his words, but a command. He didn't like it, but he complied. 

"Okay."

There was a beat of silence, and Matthew drew a long breath, breaking eye contact to move towards his bags. 

"Good."

Matthew cringed at the word. What was he? A dog? Matthew feels renewed sympathy for the eastern block countries. His lips tighten into a frown as he turns away to set up his tent.

Angered hands rifle through his bag, fumbling in their attempts to get things done quickly, to get things over with. He glances up at Ivan, praying he doesn't notice his hands shake, relieved to see he was paying Matthew no heed. He watches Ivan for a second, wishing he could melt the man with just his eyes. Kuma presses his wet note into Matthew’s hand, giving it a lick before looking back at him. They were both angry, Matthew could see it in the bear’s dark eyes, but he also knew that Kuma was there for him, and that Kuma was right to try and calm him down. He takes a breath and pulls out his bedroll and tent. Pitching it as Kuma watches him, being of absolutely no use. He would have preferred to dig into the snow and rest there like bears would in hibernation but with Ivan here it would have felt strange. He didn’t feel the need to explain rituals of the past to him, so he wouldn’t. It escaped his mind that Ivan may empathize with him in any capacity, or know at all what Matthew did despite them both being nations of striking geographic similarity. 

He huffs, hands moving automatically to put the tent up, he’s only just starting to gather his furs and bedroll up to make his tent comfy when Ivan approaches, having only pitched his tent. “I’m going out.” he says after a pause where the two of them had just stared at each other. “To gather wood,” he adds. 

Matthew nods, “Then I’ll prepare a fire pit after I finish with my stuff I guess.” 

“Sure.” 

And just like that Ivan had left. Matthew blinked a few times before feeling a certain tension leave him. “Huh.” he mumbles to himself before looking at Kuma. 

He looks over his shoulder, watching Ivan stalk off into the tundra. He gets up, dusting snow off his pants as best as he could before looking around the camp they made. Fire pit was dug out, and Matthew finished setting up his tent with all of his belongings caches inside. 

The sun was beginning to set, and Ivan had yet to come back. His things, which sat still out in the open, had been messily put down. Matthew wondered where the food was, he wondered about where they were too, only Ivan had the map after all. He cast a glance at Kuma, who shrugged, laying in the snow lazily before gingerly approaching the bags.

He knew it was wrong, everything in him told him it was wrong, however his curiosity, it nagged and teased and guided his hand through the items in the bag. His hand hits paper and he pulls out Ivan’s map, which is folded neatly into thirds. He unfurls it, hoping to figure out what they’re doing as if it would be drawn out like a treasure map with a little ‘x’ at their destination. It wasn’t. The map was a simple map of Northern Europe, most everything was written in cryllic and the few places that were marked somehow Matthew couldn’t read due to a mix of nightmarish looking Russian cursive and Matthew’s inability to understand most of the Russian language in the first place. He sighs, and folds the map back up before looking deeper into the bag, there _had_ to be _something_ in there that could help him understand. He searches now with fervor, moving aside clothes and quilts, he even pulls out a small soviet style revolver and joking to himself about russian roulette before quickly deciding he should not be joking about it considering his company. His arm is almost at the bottom of the bag when his hand hits something solid. He pulls out a small black cardboard box. Something rolled around in it, the box’s weight shifting until the objects hit one of the sides with a small metallic sound. His hands quickly pull the lid off, anticipation rushing through him and then his eyes find their mark, and his stomach sinks. Inside the little box are two bullets, probably for the revolver and on them there are names. Only one of them Matthew recognizes despite the difference in alphabet, _Альфред,_ Alfred. For a long moment he stares, was Ivan taking him to help him kill his own brother? What kind of twisted man would Ivan be if that was the case-

“Matthew.” 

He froze, putting the lid slowly back onto the box. 

“Step away from my bag.” 

Ivan was speaking sharply and clearly. Those were orders, commands that if not met would get Matthew into much worse trouble than he wanted to be in. He drops the box and stands up, stepping away from the bag, hands raised as he turns and finds himself staring down the barrel of the Russian’s rifle. 

“Ivan-” his voice falters and he internally scolds himself, _for fucks sake grow a backbone already._ Ivan doesn't relent. Matthew notes just how firm Ivan's grip on the gun was, just how steady his aim was. If he pulled the trigger he'd put a bullet right between Matthew's eyes, he could be out for days, weeks, months even if the bullet didn't leave his skull. He swallows, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Ivan what are you doing?" 

"I thought better of you, I thought I could trust you." his voice was full of scorn, his eyes swirled, a cold tempest brewing in them. He stares Matthew down as Matthew is helpless to defend himself. He dares not speak because one wrong word could be an invitation for a bullet in his brain, and so Ivan keeps speaking. "Tell me Matthew, did your brother send you? You're spying for him aren't you? I know how close you are."

"You're wrong," he says quietly, "I don't even know where he is, Ivan, I don't." 

"Then what the _fuck_ were you doing in my bags? Why should I trust you?"

"I-" he searches his mind for a reason, anything that might help him. Ivan was right, he had no reason to trust Matthew, and Matthew had no good reason to be searching through his bags. "I.." he fails at words and he supposes that failure was testing Ivan's patience as he lightly taps the trigger of his rifle. 

_tap, tap, tap._

Think Matthew, _think._

And still he fails, Ivan's lips curl into a smoldering frown, he looks as if he is about to pull the trigger before something knocks him down. The great white monster of a bear Matthew was so lucky to call his companion had awoken from his nap and saved him. Matthew almost lets out a sigh of relief before realizing that Kumajiro could be making things worse. Russian curses are spat into the air as Ivan pushes back at Kuma's snapping jaws by shoving the butt of his rifle into the bear's face. Kuma roars and Matthew snaps himself out of a brief panic, pulling Kuma off Ivan who scowled, getting up. "That bear is all that keeps you alive you weak, pathetic excuse of a man." he hisses, moving to his bags almost shoving Matthew aside. "Now get out of my face."

Matthew steps away, Kuma by his side. He crawls into his tent and makes himself comfortable. He thinks, he thinks and he regrets. He knew he was wrong but he wasn't.. He wasn't weak, he wasn't pathetic. Ivan was wrong too. He rubs his face and he closes his eyes, curling in on himself. Tension and adrenaline still course through his veins and his emotions, dozens of emotions and thoughts overwhelm his mind. He pulls his covers over himself and he cries, he doesn't know why, he cannot pinpoint a reason but he does. Maybe he is weak, maybe he is pathetic.

"I guess I'm not getting dinner tonight." he says quietly, almost laughing with irony at nobody but himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a rockey start for the two of them eh?  
> Don't worry they'll get along.. eventually
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cant believe this thing has gotten 400 hits thank you guys so much!!  
> This chapter's a long one so I hope you enjoy~
> 
> Also TW; for assault (implied sexual but not really at all??)

They had risen before the sun. In the winter daylight was scarce and they had to keep moving. Tension hung in the air, thick, palpable. It was like moving through water. Every action bogged down with uncertainty and distrust but also a need to try and keep whatever they had left intact. They did not speak, they only packed up all of their things carefully and continued on their journey. Kumajiro clung close to Matthew almost protectively. Ivan murmured something about going to a town, muffled by his scarf, and with a tone that lacked any form of friendliness. 

When they arrived the sun was setting. Matthew saw the buildings dot the horizon from miles away. You could see light from the windows, orange and flickering. As they grow nearer it becomes apparent just how temporary the settlement seems. It was falling apart. Wooden structures were built with little cohesiveness. The only thing that kept these structures standing was the stubbornness of the peoples who lived in them. Other buildings, more like tents, were built out of hides and sticks, similar to teepees found in Matthew’s own home.

The people who mill about the town are dressed in furs or thick woolen materials. They all had a demeanour similar to Ivan’s; completely and totally apathetic. As they walked through the town Matthew felt eyes on his back. They didn’t like him, they didn’t trust him. He met many gazes dark and narrowed. People sneered as they passed and Matthew felt incredibly small, even with Kuma by his side and alert. 

As they near the centre point of the town, small stands and shops sell various things from rabbit’s feet to what looks like freshly hunted meat. Worn clothes and hides, become more and more common along the sides of the narrow road. Many of the small stands were abandoned like many of the buildings. When Matthew catches the gaze of an eye-patched stand owner he immediately regrets it. The man leers at him, toothy grin as he says something to Matthew in hoarse Russian. A predatory look lingered in his one beady eye. Kumajiro growls, bringing Matthew’s focus back to getting through the town. He hears the man’s wheezing laugh as they walk away. It haunts him.

Finally Ivan brings them to a stop in front of one of the more sturdy looking buildings. It had two floors and a wooden sign hanging near the front porch that read “Отель Драгон” which had a crudely carved image of a dragon. “I’ll only be a minute.” Ivan murmurs through his scarf, looking Matthew up and down briefly before going up a few steps, pausing, and adding, “Wait here.” before disappearing through the door. 

As Matthew looks around he notices just how dark it’s become since he’s entered the town. The wind howls between buildings as less and less people seem to walk by. His eyes flick back to the door Ivan had gone through, he wonders what business he has in here, wonders just how long it will take. He takes a step, if he leaves for a moment will Ivan notice? His foot sinks through snow as he takes another, he’s used to it, he expects it, but he already knows he shouldn’t be taking the step in the first place. Ivan wouldn’t notice would he? Nobody ever does, he wouldn’t care. Another step, and another. The town beckons him to explore, maybe he could learn something, maybe this town will help him discover some secret about Ivan. Kuma watches him with dark brown eyes, sitting stubbornly in place as Matthew walks, “Come on boy, it’ll be fine...” the bear shakes his head with a huff, pawing at the ground. 

Matthew takes a deep breath, “Then I’ll go alone.” 

Kuma whines.

“I’ll just be a moment, no one will even notice.”

With that he starts roaming. He takes a slow pace, a meander through the town, eyes looking around curiously. The sky above him stretched for forever, oranges to blues to deep, dark purples. The sun dips below the horizon and the last licks of warmth fade from the sky.

The buildings around him are shrouded in the darkness of a new night, firelight shining out from the occasional window while others are empty, obviously uninhabited. The town has always been small, but as a gust of wind causes wood in old buildings to creak, Matthew wonders if it once had life. If the people of the town had once been jovial, had been able to live through the rough winters knowing the sweetness of spring would meet them soon, and that it would release them from biting cold. He wonders if they once had something to celebrate.

He glances behind him for a moment, wondering if he should go back yet, if Ivan would be done soon. The wind picks up and blows his hood down off his head. He should go back… but the town, the buildings, they entice him forward. Curiosity gave him knowledge and knowledge gave him power-- yet the last time he was curious it led to the barrel of Ivan’s rifle aimed between his eyes. He shivers at the thought, goosebumps rising. He must go back, there is no question about it, even Kuma knew this was a bad idea. 

So he turns, and in the corner of his eye he sees something move. The wind, now swirling, picking up snow and whipping his hair around him, howls. Something wasn’t right, he could feel it. He moves through the snow. There was no storm but the wind alone could be as fierce as a blizzard in midwinter. 

And wind alone could hide the sound of footsteps behind him, approaching faster and faster. 

As he walks through the town now he realises how different everything looked at night. How unfamiliar it was. What once reminded him of home in a dark way now only reflects that harsh coldness of Ivan’s steeled gaze, the tall, imposing exterior. His body tells him to run, a hand latching onto his wrist tells him otherwise. 

He’s yanked back, nearly dragged into an alley between two buildings. Pushed up against the wood of one of the homes. A coarse Russian voice speaks words he doesn’t understand as hands pull his backpack off his back. “Get off me,” he hisses, _“Get the fuck off-”_

He grapples with the man but he’s much bigger, stronger, and Matthew in his panic can’t do anything but struggle. He knees the man in the crotch, reaches a hand to push away his face, and suddenly he feels cold metal poking at his throat. His squirming shudders to a halt. He wasn’t a helpless boy, he wasn’t, truly, but the sound of his heart pumping in his ears overwhelmed him. He swallows thickly as his jacket is unzipped and yanked down, wind hugging him where his jacket no longer could. 

He shivers, trying to lean further away from the knife, feeling the large, calloused hands run underneath his shirt. “какой симпатичный мальчик…” the man grumbles, breath warming Matthews face as the knife threatens to break his skin. Matthew takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. Whatever happened he was not dying that day. He already survived one insane Russian with a gun, he could survive another with a knife. 

He hears a familiar growl and his eyes flutter open. He glances at the source of the sound, Kuma, and a small smile plays on his lips.

“Checkmate.” 

In quick succession he pushes the man, distracted by the very menacing adult polar bear, off him, grabbing the knifed hand and twisting it behind his back. 

“If it wasn’t for the bear you’d be useless.” hisses Ivan from behind him.

Matthew hadn’t even noticed him.

“I didn’t ask for your input, Ivan.” Matthew responds sourly, voice straining to remain at a reasonable volume as the adrenaline urged him to yell. He throws his attacker down into the snow. Ivan stares him down, telling him in very icy sounding russian to ‘fuck off’ as Matthew zips up his jacket, and kneels down next to his bag.

Ivan sees an opportunity.

He takes it.

“You may be more similar to Alfred than I thought.” 

“I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“Incapable of listening to me-”

“I said, _I don't want to hear it.”_

“And oh so very weak.”

Matthew picks up his bag, standing up and turning to glare at Ivan. He wants to respond, he wants to lash out, but something holds him back, causes him to turn away and start walking instead. Kuma returned to his side rather tiredly. 

Ivan takes a moment to watch him go, a small grin hiding under his scarf. For all of the headaches the Canadian caused, he was interesting, nothing like his brother. He had some self restraint, yet he also had moxie. He wasn’t the angel that Francis loved to preach but he wasn’t the devil Germany feared in the world wars. 

Ivan moves to catch up with him. “We have a room in the inn.” he hums, calmer now.

“We?” 

“Yes, you and me.” 

“In one room?” Matthew asks.

“In one room.” Ivan affirmed.

Matthew scowled, and Ivan lets out a snort. “I am not made of money, two rooms is a luxury.” 

The rest of their walk back to the inn was shrouded by an all too familiar silence. When they stepped in the first thing that hit Matthew was the heat from the inn's fire. It wasn’t particularly busy, a few people sat with drinks of which Matthew wondered how they acquired. 

The bartender was a rather stout man, who gave Ivan a nod when he entered, which was returned. Ivan led Matthew to their room which was through a small doorway on the side of the tavern, a little bit away from the main sitting area. They went up the wooden stairs, which creaked under their weight, until finally they found the door to their room. It had two beds, _thank god,_ and a dresser between them. On the floor was the hide of what appeared to be a black bear serving as a rug, and against the wall was a small wood stove and a stack of firewood providing them with much needed heat.

Matthew set his bag down at the foot of one of the beds, stripping off the jacket that had just been so violently pulled off him with a small sigh. He lays back onto the bed, into the furs atop it, only acutely aware of Ivan curiously peering at him. The comfort of having an actual bed to sleep on was overwhelming, and he would enjoy it while it lasted. His eyes flutter shut, and he runs his hand up, and down the furs which were thick and coarse more than they were soft yet that made them no less comforting. His muscles ached, it had been a long time since he could rest on a bed, with a stove, in a room that he could call his own… yet it wasn’t just his.

“Are you… Okay?” 

Matthew looks up, awkwardly raising his head to get a better look at the russian who sounded… concerned. 

“Of course, I’m okay.” he responds, somewhat confused at the question.

“No, I mean about the alleyway.”

“Oh… yeah, yeah I’m fine.” he tries a reassuring smile, the russian nods slightly in return, relaxing and starting to unbutton his own jacket. 

Matthew put his head back down, kicking his shoes off and sort of worming his way into a more proper position on the bed, head finding a pillow as he looks at the ceiling, listening to the fire and the shifting of clothes. Kuma had found his own place on the bearskin rug, feeling slightly uncomfortable but making due nonetheless. Finally the sound of heavy cloth being dropped, and Matthew looks over to see Ivan without his coat for the first time, a loose tunic draped over his wide frame instead. He looks better like this Matthew decides to himself, before looking back at the ceiling as to not stare. 

Ivan himself shifts to lay on his bed, moving under the hides and the bedsheet, rolling to his side to watch Matthew. Oddly enough he still wore his scarf, but that seemed to be no bother to the man as he watched the Canadian with a careful gaze. “You know my sister, right?”

Matthew takes a moment to break away from his thoughts, “Hmm? Oh, Katya? Yes, we’re friends.” 

“Friends?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“She lets you call her Katya?”

“She lets a lot of people call her Katya, she’s very friendly.” 

“I suppose so…” 

“You know, once she came for a surprise visit on my birthday,” Matthew smiles at the memory, “Not many people do that. Alfred hated her for it, thinks she’s a bad person just because she associates with you.” his lips turn into a small frown. “I never did think that was fair.” 

His eyes flicker briefly to Ivan, whose face showed no emotion, and whose lips formed no words. Matthew finds himself needing to fill the silence. 

“It’s part of why I hung out with her, not that I don’t love her company… to prove Al wrong, to prove that you aren’t all monsters. Same with Cuba,” his frown deepens, “I didn’t think you would actually do it you know… nuke us. It was stupid, you knew the consequences, you both did. Mutually assured destruction... “ He turns to face Ivan, who only shows the slightest discomfort. “I told him you wouldn’t do it,” he continues, “And you know, I hate it when he’s right.” 

Ivan huffs, and rolls onto his back.

“Why did you do it Ivan?” 

He’s met with silence. The air chills despite the fire popping and crackling.

When Ivan does speak, he speaks in russian, “В до́ме пове́шенного не говоря́т о верёвке.” and Matthew doesn’t understand it. He probably wouldn’t if it were in english either.

He doesn’t dare speak again after that, he figured Ivan wouldn’t contribute if he did, so he rolls over, and tucks himself in. They’ll probably have a lot more walking to do in the morning.

\---

When Matthew wakes up Ivan is no longer in the room. Kuma is asleep on the floor and for a split second Matthew wonders if he had simply been ditched, but his eyes catch sight of Ivan's bags sitting on the floor, and a glass of water resting on the dresser that was not there previously. He grasps it and gives it a small sniff, to confirm that it is indeed water, before drinking it and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He reaches for his shoes and slides them on, not bothering to lace them properly as he gets up.

Kuma opens one eye, and then falls back asleep as Matthew leaves the room, walking tentatively down the stairs. 

When he reaches the bottom he looks around the room cautiously. Almost all of the seats were empty as a girl Matthew had not seen the night before wiped the tables clean and Ivan sat at the bar, pleasantly chatting with the bartender over some food. When Matthew approaches Ivan ends the conversation briefly to look over and with a small, almost artificial smile say, “Well, look who’s finally awake.” as if it were just to keep up appearances. He murmurs something to the barkeep in russian before the man shuffles off to attend to something or other.

“Come, have a seat.” Ivan motions to the barstool next to him, “Sergey will bring you some food,”

“What time is it?”

“I would not know, 10 maybe? Late morning.”

Matthew furrows an eyebrow, they had been leaving at the break of dawn ever since they started travelling together. 

The barman returns with a bowl of stew and a glass of water, setting them down in front of Matthew before continuing to make conversation with Ivan, most of which Matthew could not understand. He chose to eat instead eavesdropping, finding himself enjoying the meal more than he would have enjoyed the conversation. 

And for once in a long time Matthew felt properly well rested and well fed. When they had both finished their food and when Ivan finished his conversation with the Bartender they made their way back up the stairs to pack up their things once more., finally leaving for good.

\---

They left the town behind them as they walked.

And as the sun started to make its way across the crystal clear sky, silence resumed between the two men. This time it was not stale, it was not tense, moreso awkward, shrouded in uncertainty. The feeling of not knowing how to feel enveloped Matthew once more as he had to re evaluate his opinions on Ivan. 

Whatever he was he wasn’t evil.

And in some weird way, that was enough for Matthew.

His eyes trail up from the ground in front of him to Ivan’s back, his bag upon it, and his rifle slung around his shoulder. He closes his eyes and simply walks. The wind kissed his cheeks and whispered sweet nothings in his ears as his footsteps and his heartbeat created a rhythm. He breaths in and out and listens to the dull, familiar hymn… until suddenly he hears something else. His eyes fly open and he stumbles a little, noticing he was slightly off track, before turning to look behind him.

He catches a glimpse of a man in the distance. There’s something in his hand… something, what is it? What is- 

“Ivan!” his lips move and so does his body as suddenly he shoves the larger man down, down, _away._

Pain blossoms in his abdomen as the sound only registers after. The loud crack in the air. The sound of a gunshot. 

Matthew’s eyes fly wildly to Ivan who was on the ground, fumbling to load his rifle. Matthew rips it from his hands with ease, 

Breath in. Take aim.

Breath out. Fire.

Reload, aim.

Take aim. Fire. 

It’s automatic, surprisingly so.

Matthew was not a gun nut like his brother, he never was, but he was not a fool either, and he did not fight in both of the world wars and come out victorious to only be an incapable trench rat. 

His gaze sweeps the terrain, and then he glances back at Ivan, who had since stood up. A small smile tugs at his lips as he marches off to find the body, Kuma at his hip. His hand, pressed firmly against his abdomen, was coated in warm blood, yet he pushed on. He walks at least fifty yards toward the man who shot him, Ivan quick to follow. “That was foolish of you.”

“At least I made myself useful, right?”

Ivans lips tighten into a frown, “Getting hurt is not useful, it is idiotic.”

“Well it’s fucking better me then you,”

“Oh? How so?” 

“I couldn’t drag your body nearly as far as you could drag mine.”

“Is that what your brother tells you to say when he forces you to take a bullet for him? Or did you learn that logic before him? From Arthur maybe? Francis? You’re all ridiculous.”

Matthew turns to glare before finally stopping at the corpse of his attacker, who had a familiar face. Matthew’s expression twists into disgust as he peers into it. The man from the Alleyway. His grip tightens around the rifle in his hand before he brings it up and slams it down in the mans face, again, and again, and again, and-

“Matthew.”

He throws the rifle down, eyes filled with rage, and tears as he glowers at the man who was now unrecognizable. Matthew wondered if he ever had a name, because whatever it was it was worth nothing now.

Why was everyone in this country out to fucking get him? His hands shook.

“Matthew you need to calm down.”

“Don’t you _fucking_ tell me to calm down Ivan!. Not after you aim your rifle at me, not after you insult me, and you degrade me,and not after every person I’ve met in your godforsaken country has tried to maim me or kill me or-” he coughs up blood. Crimson coloured spit trails down his chin as his eyes, full of only more spite cut into Ivan, stare into him searching, searching. Searching until he finds the guilt buried deep within him, until a quiet, “I’m sorry Matthew” is murmured, barely audible, from the Russians lips, only for Matthew to hiss, “You owe me far more than an apology.”

Ivan averts his gaze, and backs away. “We should set up camp.”

Matthew says nothing.

“I’ll… go find some firewood.”

And he walks away with haste, a need to get out of there.

Kuma groans and tugs Matthew down. Matthew sits, and grabs a handful of snow to press against his wound, leaning against Kuma, who had plopped himself down just so Matthew could sink into his soft fur and attempt to focus on that instead of the pain. 

. . .

. .

.

When Matthew wakes up the first thing he sees is stars. Not the kind you see when you’ve woken from a concussion, or the kind you see when a flashbang erupts only a few feet away, but rather the ones in the sky, the ones who form the great swan cygnus, ursa major, ursa minor. Finally he rolls his head over to see Ivan, poking at a healthy, glowing fire. His nose was hit with the smell of cooked meat as Ivan looks up, and over to Matthew. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” He says, moving to hand Matthew some water and some meat skewers. “I made dinner, and attended to your wounds.” he gives a nod towards Matthew’s abdomen, which was wrapped, rather skillfully in bandages. “I hope you do not mind.” 

Matthew shakes his head. “No, I… of course not.” and accepts the food and drink graciously, taking large gulps of the water before setting it down. “I… I’m sorry for freaking out at you- I was just-”

“-Нет, no, it’s alright.” he shakes his head and goes back to his place by the fire, “I understand… I… I’ve been too harsh.” the words roll off his lips, his accent adding colour to them. “I’m sorry.”

Matthew blinks, surprised. “I accept your apology then, but we have to make this work okay? We have to try.”

Ivan nods. “Да, I’ll try.”

“Good.”

“Good.” 

Matthew smiles a little, and then starts eating his food. The pain from the wound shifted from burning hot to an uncomfortable pulsing, burning only in he moved too much. He supposed it would only be a matter of time until he recovered, being a nation personification and all… but he had noticed how the healing process slowed slightly since the winter. It made sense, his nation was weak now after all, so was everyone else's.

His thoughts are broken when Ivan clears his throat, "I should tell you something, Matthew." 

Immediately his stomach sank, mind racing to the worst case scenarios. Did he already kill Alfred? Were they the only ones left? He swallowed. "Uh… ok?" 

Blinking, Ivan paused to read Matthew's expression, before finally realisation dawned upon him, "oh no, nothing bad just- well, do you know the general?"

"The general?" 

"General Winter." 

Matthew furrowed his brow, and then memories came to him… the battle of Québec. An invasion of american troops stopped in part by a vicious blizzard. General winter. He nods. 

"I'm tracking him. I think… maybe if I kill him-" 

"Kill him-? He's the embodiment of winter Ivan how do you expect to kill him?!" 

"I don't… I don't know." He looks down at his hands, fiddling with them, "but if I can, maybe it will all be ok again. Maybe I can fix it." And suddenly he looks at Matthew with a certain conviction in his eyes that Matthew had never seen from him before. Sheer determination based on hope rather than plans to seize power. As if Ivan had a sense of justice, a sense of law, order, and morality… and a sense of guilt with the will to make things right. 

Matthew admired it. 

"So," Ivan continues, "Now that I've told you… you don't think I'm crazy do you?" 

"No, of course not." 

"So do you promise to help me make this right?"

"I promise." 

"Good." 

"Good." 

And for once Matthew sees Ivan smile, it's a little smile but a pleasant one. He's genuinely pleased, Matthew knows it. 

"You should rest, Matthew, I'll keep an eye on things tonight." 

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather busy chapter, but now I have everything properly established so things will be moving along soon!

**Author's Note:**

> aaand thats the general idea! the next chapter will be out soonish I promise-
> 
> This will easily be the shortest "chapter" of all of them too!


End file.
